


; poetry

by TheWriterWitch



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Bad Poetry, Poetry, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:01:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27244648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWriterWitch/pseuds/TheWriterWitch
Summary: All my silly poetry I spit out once in a while when nothing else will ease my brain.Be wary, there might be dark themes and imagery in these little things. Proceed at your own risk.





	1. ; the star

_I look down at the cliff  
My feet are stiff  
I dingle off the edge_

_My heart screams no  
My head says yes  
And nothing much makes sense_

_I ran towards a star  
It beckoned when I got here_

_My skin is torn_  
My eyes won't see  
And all I shed are tears 


	2. ; the Elder tree

_We kiss beneath a tree  
As I watch the sunset retreat, you whisper  
"It is an elder tree"  
And from then on I knew_

_In the spring I'd watch the berries grow  
Your pale skin against the dustlike bark  
Your red hair floating through the scolding air  
Blinded, I thought I saw you smile_

_Scorching hot summer nights spent watching the stars  
So close and far away, we walked under the same moon  
You covered my ears to the sound of nature  
I touched your hands like a nymph would a God's_

_When leaves started to fall and the earth looked like the sky, I prayed  
You'd poke my eyes and I couldn't care  
I couldn't see without you anyway  
Your smile was still the sun, and I still blinded saw you smile_

_Dead things rise in Winter, so you rose, and you went  
Were was the sun? Where the rain and clouds and all the years of the Elder tree?  
Crawling upon me, as I was crawling up towards it  
Its branches became my home, and my pen its leaves_

_I watch the sunset retreat, still sitting  
I look down, at the hanged man, and you look back to me  
This is the elder tree, and it loves me and I love him  
And from then on I knew _


	3. ; the hunger

_One by one, I eat my own fingers  
Blood gushes merrily   
It's salty. It's good.  
I am full, yet I need more  
I linger towards my arm  
An unpolished blot sits  
Innocent, I lick it, I tear it away  
My teeth rattle and break by the weight of my own bones  
My eyes scream and I roll them back into their sockets  
I puke the hair and the nails and lick my gums  
My muscles flail   
They dingle off the edge of my elbow, without spark, but slithering like epilectic worms  
I wiggle in response. My laugh is with no purpose_

_Was I really this delicious the entire time?  
What else is there to eat? I lift my eyelids one by one  
I let them rest on my tongue  
I swallow both  
Unbearable misery, the lenght of my nerves  
Suffocating me,  
My clitoris lost in a pool of blood  
I lay somewhere. Please! Bring me my meat! Begging, my blood and flesh and bones and soul are lost! My desperate search, sustaining me, spark of my destiny, eternal primal motionless engine of inner blooms._

_But I have no eyes  
I have no mouth!  
I have no tongue_

_I rest  
My hunger left unquenched. _


	4. ; the Lovers

You linger on the back of my shoulder.  
I fast for forty days.  
Are you the Messiah? My parents think so.   
The devil hides in the details.  
But you glance at me. I can see it through the back of my skull. Hear your whispering beneath my dreams.  
Lead me! Be my guide. My duke. What will you make me lose?  
What will I choose to leave behind?

I am God  
I am Paltith  
I am Adrammelech and I am Sharezer  
I am the Messiah and he is me  
I am God  
I am Gods

What are you? What are you to me?  
I shower your bones in love. I carve the faded memory of your pains between my bones.  
Barely human, Barely breathing  
Ulysses on an altar destroyed by the greeks. Zarathustra pacing through his infinite circles.  
Living through the icons of my youth  
Existing enough to allow my soul into my personal pantheon


End file.
